


Not Another Fanfiction Trope

by Darky_Parky



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Apocalypse, Chaos, Comedy, Crossover, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Humor, Mystery, No Romance, Reader-Insert, Time Shenanigans, Timey-Wimey, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26609890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darky_Parky/pseuds/Darky_Parky
Summary: Do you know what happens when you wish upon the brightest star and all your dreams come true? Chaos. Absolute chaos.
Kudos: 4





	1. A Cry for Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust and I've decided it finally deserves to be in the light, I hope you enjoy.

You would say that you were probably as normal as can be. You go to high school, have your own normal group of friends and a normal home with a normal family. Nobody really picks you out from the crowd. And you have to say, it's kind of a boring life, but boredom always leads to the pursuit of wondrous entertainment.

Every normal teenager has their very own obsessions and you, my good friend, are extremely invested with a plethora of series, ranging from fantasy to sci-fi to supernatural. It's a nice escape from and life and its tedious chores, but it leaves you desiring a life that you will never have.

Still, you hope that someday someone will come to your rescue and you'll leave this world behind forever. But, fiction is fiction and you must live with the reality you are given.

Speaking of. . . I think it's time for you to wake up, isn't it?

You opened your eyes, looking over at your clock. You have about five minutes before your alarm goes off. You're pretty tired since you made the same mistake of searching for good fanfiction last night. But, what's five minutes of sleep going to do really? It's be better if you just got up and get ready for school.

. . . Nah. Five more minutes won't kill you. You close your eyes and slowly went back to sleep.

What felt like a short time later, you awoke to the sound of your buzzing phone. Slowly opening your eyes, you reached out toward the general sound and with some feeling around you found it. you instinctively pressed the cell button and put it up to your ear.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N), where are you right now?" It was your friend, they sounded. . . concerned.

"At home? Why?"

"(Y/N), class is going to start in ten minutes."

"What?" You looked back at the clock and your stomach dropped. "I'll call you back." You hurriedly hung up the phone and sprung out of bed, quickly going through your closet. You picked a simple outfit and threw on the clothes before rushing to the bathroom for your daily routine.

You hope you don't look like a disaster as you grabbed your phone, your keys, your bag and headed out of your home.

It's. . . kinda sad, really. This is the first time in a long time when things were exciting.

* * *

Out of breath, you arrived at the front door of your classroom. Your professor was going on and on about who-knows-what, obviously already deep into the lesson. You know the minute you walk in all eyes would be on you. . . . Which you suppose you did ask for.

Sucking in a breath, you opened the door to the classroom and just as you expected, everyone turned their attention toward you.

"Do you have a pass?"

"Uh. . . no." Quietly, the teacher grabbed a detention slip and scribbled their signature before handing it to you.

"Open your book to page 146." You simply gave a nod as you hurried to your seat, mortified.

Of course you couldn't have been _just_ late. Of course you couldn't have _just_ interrupted class.

You pulled out your textbook and flipped to the instructed page.

You just _had_ to get a detention in front of everyone.

You pulled out your notebook and plunged your hand into your bag for a pencil.

You wanted to be swallowed whole by the Earth.

"Hey." You looked over, seeing your friend, sporting a supporting smile and their good pencil. "I'll wait for you after school." They handed you the pencil and returned to their own work.

You smiled softly in appreciation, but even with that promise, the guilt still hangs.

You turned your attention to the textbook and started finding where the class left off when you felt something wet hitting the back of your head. You turned, seeing a bunch of the idiots, grouped around a guy with a straw, laughing.

Trying to swallow your disgust, you pulled on your sleeve and wiped away the spit ball. Can this day get any worse?

The earth beneath the floor began to tremble. The class paused, students looking about, some with looks of panic or bewilderment.

"It's alright class, it's just an earthquake, it will pass soon-!" The teacher shouted as they fell backward.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stood up, just looking over the teacher's desk to see a giant crack in the ground that was only growing larger by the minute.

You gasped as you clambered over your chair to get to the wall. "(Y/N)?" your friend asked in concern. You grabbed their arm and pulled them toward safety as the room split open.

Your classmates screamed as they scrambled to the walls. Your friend looked back in horror. "What's going on?!"

"I don't know!" 

The Earth is crumbling, your classmates are horrified, your teacher is clambering out of the ravine.

This doesn't just happen - not in this world anyway. This is what happens in the beginning of your TV shows and movies and books. This what happens to protagonists. And you don't like it one bit.


	2. Oh, No. Not this Again.

The Doctor was humming contently as he set the TARDIS on course for his next adventure.

He's been on his own for a bit after dropping off Rose on Earth for visit with her family. He's missed her company more than he'd like to admit, but the Doctor wouldn't be himself if he couldn't keep himself busy.

"Alright, Doctor, where to next?" he asked himself with a grin. he ran around the controls, ringing bells, pushing buttons as the TARDIS whirred to life. "Allons-y!" He flipped a switch and off he went, racing the cosmos. . . . Before coming to a complete stop.

The Doctor scrunched up his nose as he crouched down to inspect the TARDIS. "What the. . . ?" He took out his reading glasses before falling back due to the TARDIS racing to who knows where. "What are you doing?!" he shouted.

He grabbed the rim of the control panel and slowly pulled himself up, fighting against the sheer speed of the ship. He reached up and yanked down the map monitor, but couldn't get a read to save his life.

Something strong was interfering with his ship.

Big, bold letters flashed on the screen briefly before the ship came to a screeching halt. The Doctor was thrown back. He groaned as he rubbed the back of his head. If the TARDIS had been going any faster he might've had an early regeneration on his hands.

The Doctor stoop up, pocketed his glasses, and pulled out the screwdriver. Whatever maybe outside he doubted was going to be friendly.

He pressed the screwdriver's button and took aim, slowly approaching the TARDIS's doors. He placed a hand on the door. "Don't worry, old girl. I'm going to find out what happened to you." The Doctor took in a deep breath. "Allons-y!" he yelled, throwing the door open and jumping out.

The Doctor as of now was looking upon what appeared to be a small opening in an Earth forest with. . . a circle of TARDISes.

"Geronimo!" From one came a young man with an enormous chin, a bowtie, and what appeared to be a bigger sonic screwdriver. The young man lowered the screwdriver, relaxing as he looked to the Doctor in confusion. "You again?"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, lowering his own sonic. "Me again?"

"Alright!" An old man opened the doors to another TARDIS the Doctor and the young man aimed their screwdrivers at him. "What is going on here. . . ." The old man looked to the two and sighed. "Oh, no. Not this again."

"Not what again?" asked the Doctor as he lowered his screwdriver.

"Was my memory really that poor?" asked Eleven, looking to Ten.

"I know mine is at least," said Twelve. "I remember none of this."

"It might be a blip in the timeline," suggested Eleven as he put away his screwdriver.

"Do we have blips?" asked Ten.

"You know better than anyone about the wibbly wobbly timey-wimey," stated Eleven.

"I really spoke like this, didn't I?" questioned Twelve mostly to himself. A TARDIS door opened a crack, causing the Doctor and the young man to take aim. "Oh, really gentlemen, we know who's in the TARDIS!"

"How can you be sure?" inquired Eleven.

From the TARDIS came the Doctor's previous head, poking out from the crack. Reluctantly Ten and Eleven put away their screwdrivers.

Nine opened his door all the way, eyebrows knitted together. "You two again? I thought we had our come together moment."

"Apparently, we weren't done," said Twelve, causing Nine to turn his attention toward him.

Nine sighed in relief. "Oh, I am glad I didn't become a fetus."

"You got close with that one." Twelve gestured to Eleven.

"Hey!" Ten guffawed. Eleven turned to him, glaring. "You're still going to turn into me when the time comes."

Ten grimaced. "Oh, you're right. Is that why I don't see Rose in that TARDIS of yours?"

Nine smiled, distracting Ten from the grim expression on Eleven's and Twelve's faces. "Oh, Rose stuck around? Fantastic!"

Abruptly, the last TARDIS door opened, revealing a young, blonde woman.

" _Still_ not ginger?" the Doctors said in unison.

"At this point, boys, I think it's hopeless."

Twelve sighed. "No matter. Why are we all here?"

"Something was interfering with my TARDIS. . ." the other Doctors explained.

They turned to Twelve. "Same here."

"Something interfered with five different TARDISes, all from different timelines, all to bring us here. . ." Ten said, confused as ever.

"But why?" asked Nine.

"Well, we all are a prime target for one thing or another," Eleven said.

"Yes, but how many times do we meet up like this?" argued Thirteen.

"Apparently often," Nine responded.

"There must be something linking us all together," Ten stated.

"You mean other than the fact that we're all the Doctor?" Elven asked rhetorically.

"Maybe. . ." said Thirteen. "What were we all doing before we were sent here?"

"Crusing the cosmos," Nine said simply.

"Same here," Ten said.

"Same here," Eleven echoed.

"Same here," concluded Twelve.

"And we were all alone doing this?" The Doctors looked to one another, things beginning to click into place.

"Doctor," spoke Ten, "are you suggesting that whatever brought us here wanted us here alone?"

"Yes."

"But why?" questioned Nine.

"Well, we're at our most vulnerable when we're alone," explained Thirteen.

"And most destructive," countered Twelve, receiving grim expressions in response. "If whatever brought us here has the intent to destroy us, they have made a mistake."

"Who says that they intend to destroy us?" suggested Ten. "Perhaps this is a cry for help."

That leaves another question then," spoke Nine. "What kind of peril is occurring that requires all of us?"

"Nothing good," answered Thirteen before she took out a clunky looking device.

"What's that?" asked Eleven.

"It's a thing that goes ding."

Ten smiled. "Oh, I love things that go ding."

The device dinged and Thirteen's face fell. "What?" Twelve asked.

Thirteen held up the device, showing a large threat just outside their area. "Something is tearing the Earth apart."


	3. Terror at Tea Time

John was in his bedroom, enjoying a book and a cup of tea, spending quality time away from his partner. Sherlock had pushed one too many buttons that day and he just needed a little space before looking for a new case with him.

John only hoped that in this small time Sherlock does not create any chaos while he was gone. But, knowing him-

The complex shook, causing John to pause. London doesn't usually have earthquakes, then again, stranger things have happened.

The complex shook again, this time more vigorously, nearly spilling John's tea. He quickly slipped in a bookmark and closed the book, setting it aside.

"Sherlock!" he called. The man man was probably already prepared, but it's probably best to warn him. An injured Sherlock is worse than a healthy one. "Get to a doorway!" John set his tea onto the nightstand and got under the bed, placing his hands over his head.

The apartment jostled about violently to the point where John was convinced it was all going to come down. Then, John heard a resounding crash before getting the wind knocked out of him.

He wheezed, trying desperately to get some air back in his lungs. Once he got a breath in, John crawled out from under the bed and flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling until he got himself together.

Clumsily, he got up onto his feet. "Sherlock?" He walked out of the bedroom, ignoring his tea, now spilled onto the carpet. "Sherlock?"

John was greeted with the apartment in utter disarray and among the chaos was none other than Sherlock, staring out the window silently. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked as he carefully stepped over a broken teacup.

"We've landed on a house."

"What?"

"We've landed on a house," Sherlock repeated calmly.

"It was just an earthquake-"

"Were it to be an earthquake the street outside would not have been still."

"How can you tell it was still? We were inside-"

"I can very well see what is moving and what isn't, John. Location has nothing to do with it."

"That still doesn't mean that we landed on a house, Sherlock."

"Where is Mrs. Hudson, John?" 

"Huh?"

"Mrs. Hudson. She should be up here by now to make sure we're okay, shouldn't she?"

"I suppose. But, she could just be out."

"Or she could be gone."

"Sherlock-"

"Put a stress ball on the floor."

"What?"

"Just do it." Confused still, John went to the desk which was surprisingly still standing and took out a stress ball from a drawer. He placed the ball onto the floor and it immediately raced down to the other end of the room. "What does that look like to you, John?"

"Like. . . we're at an angle."

"And we weren't before, were we?"

"Maybe we had a weak foundation-"

"Look out the window, John."

"Sherlock-"

"Look out the window." Reluctantly, John walked over to Sherlock and looked out the window.

John paused. "Those houses weren't there before."

"No, they weren't. But that's not what you should be looking at." Sherlock took the back of John's head and tilted it downward.

Just below them John could see a distressed couple and their children he had never seen before, looking down at an unhinged door that did not belong to their apartment complex.

John rushed to the front door and swung it open. Before him now was not the hallway, but a little neighborhood in London.

"We've landed on a house," John said, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him again.

"We've landed on a house."


	4. We're Not in Kansas Anymore

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"What just happened?"

"Well, I'm not really sure, kid. How about you ask Reindeer Games?" Peter turned to Loki who was currently face down on the floor.

"Mr. Loki?"

Loki slowly pulled his head up. "Do I look like I am at fault for this, child?"

"You always look like you're at fault," said Tony.

"What benefit would I have of this, Stark?"

"Chaos."

Loki opened his mouth only to close it. "You have me there. But, I assure you, I did not do this."

"Point Break?" Tony called.

Thor walked over to his brother and helped him up. "My brother is not powerful enough to move the entire tower, Stark."

"Is that a challenge?" Thor glared at his brother.

"Well, anyone know someone they ticked off that can do that?" Tony asked.

The Avengers took a large pause, going through their large lists of enemies. Steve was the one to break it.

"This isn't New York."

Tony turned to the Captain who was staring out to the large windows, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"The streets and houses are all wrong."

"Could be on account that we're slanted," said Tony.

Peter came over to the windows. "Mr. Rogers is right, the streets are all wrong."

Tony joined the two and analyzed the streets. "You two could be onto something." Soon, the rest of the Avengers gathered themselves and looked out the windows. "FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Tony?" Tony sighed in relief at the sound of his A.I.'s voice. FRIDAY was still unharmed.

"Where are we?"

"New York City, New York."

Tony turned to Peter. "Kid, do you have a signal?"

"Oh, um, let me check."

"Actually, everybody aside from the elderly," Bucky shot daggers at Tony, "check your phones. Do we all have signal? What's the local news for today? Local cafes?"

"Tony," Natasha said, holding up her phone, "take a look at this." Tony came over and took Natasha's phone, seeing a rather strange news article.

" 'Tower crashes into building in New York City'. Amazing how fast the news is these days." Tony handed the phone back to Natasha. "Alright, we're going to go around. Who ticked off who and or what?" Tony pointed at Natasha. "Rominoff."

"Couple of baker's dozens of secret agencies. Give or take," she admitted.

Tony jabbed a thumb toward himself. "A lot of terrorists organizations and some employees," Tony said. "Banner?"

"Uh, I had a problem with a barista at Starbucks recently."

"Wilson? Barnes?"

"Don't group me in with the old man that still has fist fights with the King of Wakanda."

"And don't group me in with anybody that still helps Brooklyn in his fights."

"Odinsons?"

The two brothers glanced at each other for a moment. "I think it's safe to say we both have quite a few enemies," concluded Loki.

"Less than you."

"Want to wager on that?"

Tony continued. "Clint?" Clint shrugged. "Rhodey?"

"I'm not psychos like you, I don't keep count."

"Peter?"

"Uh, well, I wouldn't say I have that many enemies."

"Good-"

"Though, I did send Mr. Toomes to jail and he could have started telling the other people I've sent to jail about me."

"Alright, so add that up with however may people that hate the Vision's guts and we have what some people call a plethora of options."

"Ten dollars says that it's one of Loki's," said Thor.

"Twenty for one of Thor's," said Loki.

"Hey we're not going to bet on who's going to be outside of this tower," Steve said firmly.

"Thirty says that it's one of Bucky's," Sam announced.

Tony pointed at the Falcon, a stern expression on his face. "Deal." Bucky threw up his hands.

"Uh. . . Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Should we be concerned about that?" Tony looked back into the windows seeing various vehicles, coming straight for Stark Tower.

"Depends," Tony answered.

"On what?" Steve asked.

"How we left things with the U.S. military."


End file.
